December 7th, 2001

December 7th 2001, this is a date I will never forget. In the shadows of Pearl Harbor rests an event that changed my life. I was thirteen years old.

It was a typical night at home; my mother and I were in our apartment deciding what to do for dinner. Agreeing on the local Taco Shop, we started to walk down the street. Half way there our neighbor speeds angrily by. I pay no bother to him; sure his night will turn around. Satisfied with our meal, we return to our humble abode and put on the television. Remembering what was on the TV at that exact moment is difficult, it was probably our usual favorite vampire slayer. Why that is important I have no idea. Maybe that is the last I can remember of my innocence. My mind untainted by the events yet to come.

It was a crisp winter night. The darkness was finally beginning to set in. The promise of Christmas was hanging in the air. We already had all of our decorations up; we were early spirited when it came time for this holiday. Our neighbors were running behind on spirit, but this night they were catching up. I remember hearing the hammer hitting into the wall to hang the brightly colored decorations. Finally some more Christmas cheer to share.

Then it stopped and in place came the muffled yelling. Our neighbors had a third party in there relationship, alcohol. I would not know this until later, but, the alcohol would be the light to the judgment. They were both drunk that night and both angry. I waited for the happy sounds of hanging the decorations again. The sounds finally came.

I heard a thump, some more muffled yells, and what sounded like they had continued on with there project. Something felt wrong. I needed to hear better, to make sure everything was okay, so I put my ear up to the wall. The muffled voice was amplified, but I could not make any sense. Then I heard moaning. I felt in my gut something was wrong. But, we were trying to convince ourselves that they had made up, and the sounds of the moans were not of pain. The moaning stopped before the other noises did. The muffled voice began to subside. Then nothing, complete silence. Eventually the sound of the shower turning on calmed my nerves a little.

Then I saw the lights. Not the Christmas lights like I wish I had seen. The flashes of red and blue came penetrating through my bed room window. There were cops cars, an ambulance and a fire truck scattered downstairs beneath my window. I waited, hoping I was wrong in why they were there. Then I see the man in his white robe. Hand cuffed and being led outside. He had just taken a shower, I didn’t know if he was still drunk. Following short thereafter, was his girlfriend, lifelessly lying on a stretcher. She had white sheets covering all the way up to her neck. Her swollen and cut up face was revealed and it locked my eyes in place. Her eyes were closed, she was sleeping. There was no movement on that stretcher. After they put her in the ambulance my eyes finally snapped back up to the man who had sped by earlier that night. Those eyes I will never forget and it wouldn’t be the last time I saw them.

They loaded him into the back of the police car, and took him away. An officer came to our door to question us. We were the only two witnesses and they needed our statements. I answered the best I could. I told them exactly what I heard, but I was just a kid. After the questioning, I just lied in my bed. Why didn’t I call the cops? I should have gone with my gut instinct. But, it was my mother’s instinct to tell me that everything was okay, they were fine. That doesn’t take away the guilt. She was pronounced dead later that night. She was a daughter and a mother. She will always be in my mind.

I know now, that when I held my ear up to the wall, it was the sound of her dying that I heard on the other side. A hammer, a tool that was supposed to be used for hanging the glory of Christmas; was used to inflict 121 external wounds on her poor defenseless body. A doctor later testified that her heart was so damaged; it had been torn apart in two places. She had brain injuries as well; I pray she was unconscious for all of this. I pray that when I heard the first silence, it was then that her suffering ended.

How does a young girl deal with this? It was then that my trouble sleeping started. To this day I find it hard to put my mind at rest enough to sleep. I do not dwell on the event much, just when that fearsome date comes around. I asked for her forgiveness many times. Hoping she is at peace wherever she is. I hope her family can forgive me, for not standing up and making a call when I had a chance.

The trial was held over a year later. My mother and I being the only two witnesses had to testify. I was 15 at the time. I remember being terrified, not only because I have social anxiety, but because I was going to have to look him in the eyes one last time. I was shaking as I took the stand. Trying to compose myself and answer the questions to the best of my memory. I swore to tell the whole truth, and then they made me look at him and identify him as the man who committed the crime. Our eyes locked and all I could produce was a grim “yes”. I didn’t look at him again, I couldn’t. Her family was sitting in the back of the courtroom; I could see the tears streaming down their faces. I wanted so badly to scream out I’m sorry! But, I couldn’t look them in the eyes. I felt as if they hated me. I was so sorry; I couldn’t begin to tell them how much. After the questioning I was excused to leave, I walked with my head down past the family; hiding the shame in my eyes.

The outcome of the trial was infuriating to me. I thought he should be locked up for life and beyond. A monster like that should rot in his sins. He was charged with second degree murder. Because the alcohol was involved, he did not get first degree.

Her name will be left out, but I think of her daily. May you rest in peace always, I pray you are in a good place.